Paper Flowers
by Ivy Phoenix
Summary: She loved Draco, didn't she? It must be love what she felt, for what else could it be? But things were happening so fast. . . so fast. . . Why must there be so many secrets in her life? Why did everything have to revolve around lies?
1. The death

Hello HP fans! Ivy Phoenix here.Unfortunatly, I cannot take full credit for this story. The author of _Memories_ made a lot of the ideas, and I am just using them to help my storie, so author of _Memories_, please don't sue me for taking your idea, I gave you credit too. Anyway, this story starts right at the time when the REAL battle starts, the one where He-who-must-not-be-named fights. Please please PLEASE reply to my story, weather it be constructive critisizum or praise. You don't know how much it means to know that people read and appreciate my work. Well, here we go!

Disclamer: Hey! Guess what. I've lied to you. I do NOT own Harry Potter. Some woman with the name of... JK Rowling? She has something to do with it.

Chaos rained. Spells wizzed past her, but she couldn't lift her wand to fire back. She crumpled on the ground, blind and deaf to all that was around her. Harry was dead. . . she couldn't breath. . . she couldn't control herself. . . everything was wrong. Harry, one of the closest friends she ever had. . . one of the only friends she ever had. Whey couldn't this end? She had risked everything for him, but he had died at the hands of Voldemort. Everything was red with pain and black with emptyness. She felt someone's hands under her shoulders, felt herself being dragged on the ground. She didn't care what the Death Eaters did to her—nothing, _nothing_ could have been more painful then seeing her friend lie dead at Voldemorts feet.

She was suffocating. She was in a box that was slowing shrinking, closing in all around her, squeezing her shut. She could feel her body, so far off, convulsing in spasms of pain. Her eyes were useless; they were to wet through, and even what she could see she couldn't make sense of. She was being dragged down, her mind a disarray of memories; she was zigzagging in and out of consciousness.

_She was three. Her aunt was squealing over her baby sister's dress, her tiny toes, and her blue eyes. Mother and father were standing proudly next to her, their faces shining with the happiness only a new born child can bring._

"_Why, Cinthy's just _adorable_!" Aunty cooed._

"_She's most certainly is _our_ grandchild!" her grandfather remarked. "Is that a blond curl I see coming in?"_

"_We were so scared she wouldn't make it." her mother's lower lip quivered. "What with her heart murmer." Hermione sat in the corner, silently watching the cerimony with large, round brown eyes. Nobody even spared a glance at her,_ _not caring that she hadn't been fed since last night. _

"_Our little girl. . ." her father murmured, and the aunt birst into tears._

Someone was screaming, she cought between past and present, she didn't understand what was happening, all she knew was she wanted it to end.

_She was shaken awake, and opened her big brown eyes to see her mothers face, wet and lined. _

"_Wake up, Harmione. It's time for your sister's funeral." Something terribly wrong had happened, so she cried. She wasn't sure why, but she knew she would never see the little blond beauty again. At the funeral was when it happened. The priest was finishing up, and people were coming forward with words and flowers. She was mad. This wasn't supposed to happen. She hated the world for this, and as her parents kneeled down to place the flowers in her grave, the beautiful roses started tearing themselves to shreads, petals flying everywhere. She ran. She ran and she ran, and her parents never called after her. She ran until she could run no more, until she couldn't find her way home if she tried. She collapsed on a park bench, never wanting to see the faces of the ones who had rejected her again._

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She was in a dark room, the sounds of duels in the distance. She lay there for a while, her mind blank. Then she heard movement. Someone was in the room with her. She hadn't the strength to turn her head, but she already knew who it was. A Death Eater. She didn't speak. Her throat was dry, and she didn't care to talk about what she knew was coming. She didn't care. Harry was dead and she waould gladly follow. Her only regret was that she and Ron had never had any children. But they had kissed. That was enough.

The pain of the torture curse never came. Perhaps he'd just kill her and be done with it. His master probably wanted him to show his loyalty by killing Harry Potter's closest friends. Their was silence. Hermione wished her captor would get it over and done with, not this waiting, these moments on which she could do nothing but reflect her on her life. She had never told Lavender Brown she forgave her. She had never told Luna how much she cared about her. She had never even told Ron that she loved him. She had wanted to master potions before she died, and their was a Transfiguration test she had only gotten and E on, and she wanted to see Professor McGonagall about it—

"Hermione." Her heart skipped a beat as she heard words, but they were the last ones she'd expected to hear. The tone was sympathetic, almost loving. Almost. She was breathing hard now, something that was painful to her ribs. "Hermione." the voice cooed again. She gave him no satisfaction of a response. She did not know what he was doing; he had never used that name before.

"What would you do to save your friends?" The question took the burnet aback. Why would _he_ ask such a question? "Would you die to save them? Would you love someone who you never loved?" There was pain in the voice. And longing. And something else, too. "I've always looked at you, thought of you. Always. I never ment what I said. I was confused and angry with myself, and I needed someway to cover up my real self." he went on. "When I first saw you. . . Saw your face. . . Full of innocence. . ." He trailed off, leaving the room in silence. An eerie silence. This was wrong. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she already dead? Why would _he_ of all people be saying what he was saying? Was he trying to soften her up for the curse? It made no sense, but at that point, nothing mattered.

"Marry me." His voice rang out in the silence. "You want your friends to be safe? No more deaths? Then marry me. Everyone will be saved. No more deaths." _No more deaths. . ._ She couldn't process the thought properly. Marry him? _Him?_ She was confused and tired, and her mind was empty and unfocused. She just wanted it to end. . . _No more deaths . . . _Why hadn't he killed her? Why was he saying this? She was vapor, she was just mist, she couldn't grasp the thoughts that ran through her mind, they just slipped away. Numbly, she nodded. She couldn't even remember what had happened, why she was here, in an empty, dark, greenhouse. She just wanted it to end. That was all she wanted.

Hermione was now aware of how utterly alone she was. _He _had left. Where to, she did not know. The quite was deafening, it froze her and made her want to clutch her ears and scream until she could scream no more. The sounds of battle had long since ceased. Suddenly, the door was opened. And He was here, along with a presence of evil that slowly crept through the door. It silently, ominously strode towards her, each step bringing her closer to what she knew was death. Her eyes, however useless they wer now, traveled up it's cold body, past the Elder Wand, up into it's emotionless, red eyes. She saw his mouth move, saw his eyes flash, and all was blackness, deep pools she was drowning into, not to return to the top.


	2. Waking up at the Manor

Hello again! Thanx to my ONE reviewer. . . You Rock!!!!! This time, I really really really want at least 5. So, whats going to happen next?

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She was in a huge, Minister sized (king sized, as us muggles say) water-bed, snuggeled cozily under the breezy green sheets. Giving a soft moan, she streched her bare, freckled arms, yawned, and rolled out of bed. She smiled down at her nightgown: Spaghetti-strapped, green, short, and lose, with silver sparkles and tiny emeralds embroidered around the bottom, top, and sides. She looked around at her room: Painted silver walls with portraits here and there, most still asleep with their heads resting on their shoulders. To the left of her bed was her personal bathroom, complete with a huge bathtub and built-in jets, two sinks, a toilet, white carpeting, and three or four mirrors. Exactly across from the bathroom was her walk-in closet, empty but big. The small kitchen that was just at the corner of her room had a tiled floor, a silver fridge, cabinets, and counters. If you traveled through there, you'd reach the revolving doors which lead to the balcony. On the other side of the room was her little lounge, consisting of bookshelves, two squishy chairs with foot-rests, and a lamp and table.

Hermione was only to sleep in with her husband occasionally, and last night was their first together. She smiled as she remebered the day before, their wedding. It had been a quiet affair, with only a few of her husband's friends as audience. She didn't have much friends, but she was determined to make some in her new life. Quietus stalked in, his sleek fur soaking with annoyance. She leaped up onto Hermione's bed and lay down with an air of dignity and independence as only cats can. Rolling her eyes, Hermione slipped on her slippers and headed downstairs for breakfast. She strolled down the grand staircase into the Entrance room and turned right, the brass doors open at her arrival. Her husband sat on the end of the long breakfast table, stuffing himself with eggs and toast. He looked up at her, and his face brightened.

"Hey, sweet lips," he greeted, smirking. "Care to have breakfast with me?"

"Why of corse, Draco darling." she smirked in return. She sat herslef down on the seat to his right, taking the fork from his hand and spooning eggs into his mouth. "Oooh! I really must go shopping today. I haven't an outfit to wear besides the one I came in, and you know how absolutely _appalling_ that is. Also, I must get myself a house elf, a personal one that always has time to do what _I _want it to do. Do you mind?" she added hastily as a kitchen elf scurried in with her breakfast.

"Actually, I have a meeting to go to discussing matters to do with the company I'm working on starting, so have your fun, sweetie." His sly grin cought her off guard, and for a second her breath caught in her chest. Blushing furiously, she spooned her eggs into her mouth at a rapid pace. She felt his hand brush agianst her shoulder, a toutch that should have tingled on her bare skin, but for some reason didn't.

"Well, I'll just go, then." Hermione rose, gave her husband a peck on the cheek, then sauntered out of the room, calling to the kitchen elf to clean her plate. She went back up to her room, showered, dried her hair, and used two straitening charms to get her bushy mane extra strait. She then slipped into her outfit and left, returning to the new Malfoy manor just before supper, laden with V-necks, miniskirts, boots, cloaks, jeans, and half-jackets. She also came with a young female house elf. As soon as she had flooed back, and older-looking house elf informed her that they were having company for dinner. "Thank-goodness I went shopping!" she exclaimed, then scurried right up to her room.

"Lena." Upon her call, the new house elf cracked into the room.

"Mistress?"

"Come, Lena. We are having company tonight, so I must look my best." Hermione said in an authoritative voice. The girl rummaged through her pile of clothes, finally deciding on a black dress, tube-toped, with frills on the bottom and a velvet cloak of the same color. She clipped her hair up and had Lena put mascara, eye-liner, blush, and lip stick on. She wore her black leather boots, too. By the time she was done, you couldn't have recognized her compared to a month ago. Finally, at five of six, she picked up her wand from it's case, and apperated downstairs to save three minutes of walking, but not before she instructed Lena to put her clothes in the closet in and orderly fashion.

Hermione waited at the door, for it was costmary for the wife the greet the visitors as they arrived and lead them to the master of the house, and sure enough, as the clock struck six, the doorbell rang (it is never polite for a registered witch or wizard to be late for anything. At least, not for a _'_proper_' _wizard). The girl opened the door to find herself face to face with Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Cormac McLaggen. All of them were new Death Eaters. She greeted them with compliments, as was expected.

"Why Pansy! What a lovly color that dress is. Blaise, I really wasn't expecting you. What a surprise! Greg, been up to any muggle torturing lately? We certainly don't want them to think they're _getting away_ with being what they are." She turned, her cloak swishing in the door frame. "Come, I shall take you to Draco." She didn't know why they were all staring at her as if she had just kissed a muggle—infact she even heard Pansy whispering something to Blaise and was sure it had something to do with her. Nevertheless she led them into the dinning hall where her blond beauty was waiting, his eyes wide with approval as her admired her new outfit.

"Blaise! Goyle, Pansy, Cormic! Very nice of you to come." Draco drawled.

"Dracie!!!!" Pansy exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a passionate hug that suggested she would like to be doing a little more than that. Draco shook her off easily and graced Blaise with a handshake and a few words of welcome.

"So glad to hear you're engaged." Her husband said dryly to Cormac. "I trust you all know my wife?" He added needlessly—everyone did. "Come, let us eat." And with that, the guests were seated and kitchen elves ran out with drinks and appetizers. There was idle chitchat as they waited for the meal to be served.

"So I walk down the street, all the while aware that someone was follow'n me. Finally I stop, pretending to check what street I was on, then quick as a flash I had my wand pointing at the person in the corner, think'n 'bout the order, and find it was that Longbottom old hag. I was 'bout to kill her when this son of a mudblood fool—" Blaise looked reprochfully at Hermione. "Sorry." He mumbled. "Oh, it's not like I can help my parentage." Hermione said stiffly. Draco gave a grunt of agreement.

"Well, anyway, this fool—" but he never got past that. In the doorway stood none other then Ravenclaw's Cho Chang.

PLZ PLZ PLZ REVIEW AND I'LL GIVE YOU A BROWNIE!!!!!


	3. Dinner

THNX SO MUCH 5 THE REVIEWS. . . . Except 2 people said it was a little hard to understand. . . If you want me to fix that, plz tell me _how _it's hard to understand :).

Wait. . . Did I say _Cho_ was at the door in the previous chapter??????? What on earth is that all about? Read on, and plz review. This time I'm raising my fee to a total of 10 reviews, and any more would be greatly appreciated.

AN: The 'Longbottom old hag' is Neville's Grandma, srry I didn't make that clear.

"Cho." Draco greeted politely. "I assumed you weren't coming." Cho gave him a dry smile, hung her coat, then sat down at the table. Cho? Here? Wasn't she the prat who tried to go out with _"The Chosen One_?" Hermione shot her husband a questioning look, but her wasn't looking at her.

"I came, didn't I?" Cho said, her voice quiet but defiant. A kitchen elf scurried in to serve her. The sound of the serving spoon hitting the plate seemed the echo off the walls. Finally Pansy spoke.

"Well, Chang, when I heard the rumors I didn't believe them. The Dark Lord actually accepted _you?_" her harshness was greeted with more silence. Cho gave her a long look, then angrily looked away, her cheeks flushing.

"Yes, it's true." The dark-skinned girl whispered, then looked directly at Hermione. "But I'm not the only one who came over unexpectedly." Her voice was suddenly strong, and it rang out in the stillness. Hermione was bewildered. This was happening to fast. Cho obviously was hinting that Hermione had become a Death Eater unexpectedly. From what she could remember, which wasn't much, was that she was placed in Griffendor, spent seven years with those two gits, then finally decided her fate was elsewhere. It had been expected of her to become a Death Eater, so when Malfoy asked her to marry him, she naturally had said yes. She loved him, didn't she? Did she? Of course she did. And now Cho had decided to walk in and tell her it was strange she had come over to His side. Everyone seemed to know that Cho was supposed to be here. Didn't she love Harry Potter? Wouldn't she be on Potter's side? Hermione stared blankly back at her.

"Well. . . .Old Longbottom pulled out her wand, but I was to fast for her. . ." And so the gossip began again, Goyle staring stupidly from one person to another, until Draco stood up, said a few words, and everyone started eating. Hermione distastefully started a conversation with Cormac McLaggen.

"So Cormac, what's your fiancé like?"

"Well, she's got blond hair that reaches down to about her shoulders, blue eyes, and is as smart as anything. We met when I was trying out for a national quddich team, and there she was, in the stands, watchn' me. She runs up to me afterwards and tells me how beautiful I was out on the field. We've been in love ever since." Cormac chuckled in his deep voice. "That girl's crazy about me." Hermione smiled politely, trying to suppress a grimace as he continued. "Remember when we went to old Slughorn's party? That was one of the best times I've had with a girl. Malfoy's lucky to have you for a wife. Why, if I had known you'd supported the Dark Lord, I would have asked you to marry me myself. I—" but Hermione excused herself before he could say another word, to disgusted to bother being polite. She left the table and went to the bathroom nearest to the Dinning Hall and powdered her nose. She would take Malfoy over that slob any day, and dangerously found herself thinking even Weasley or Potter would be a better partner.

Once she returned to the table she was sure to include herself in the conversation between Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. ". . . Dark Lord plans to recruit the giants to forests just outside London, to keep them separate so they don't kill each other, and to keep them out of site until he needs them again." Draco was saying. Hermione noticed Pansy's hand inching across the table towards her husband's. The Burnet cleared her throat.

"But the Dark Lord must be stationing _someone_ in Diagon Alley. I mean, that's the center of business." she said pointedly.

"I'm pretty sure I heard Rookwood say that he stationed a few Death Eaters in disguise to keep an eye on the place." Blaise murmured. Draco moved his hand to run it through his hair, and Pansy pulled her own back, pouting.

"Dracie, how's that company of yours coming along?" Pansy asked.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot!" Blaise exclaimed. "Rookwood also mentioned he was thinking of making you the Minister's adviser." Draco stared at Blaise. Then a smirk slid his face.

"That's great, because my request was denied." Draco clearly looked pleased to hear the news. Pansy squealed.

"That Minister's adviser?! How important."

"You never told me!" Hermione pouted, then stuck her lip back in, wondering how much she looked like Pansy when she did that. She noticed Cho eating alone a few seats over. Suspicion tingled through her veins. Why was she here? What made her come to _this_ side? She cast Cho Chang a dark look before returning to her conversation. The rest of dinner went quickly, and dessert soon arrived. Before they all tucked in, Draco stood up.

"I'd like to say that this dinner has been in honor if my wife, Hermione. She is very talented, beautiful, and loyal." There was a strange edge to his voice as he glowered around at everyone, as if daring anyone to say something. He went on, "I'm proud to call her my wife."

"Why Draco, I'm flattered!" Hermione said sweetly, but inside her mind were churning. Of corse she was loyal to the Dark Lord—It was what was expected of her, wasn't it? And why did Blaise and Pansy give each other shifty glances when Draco had mentioned that? Pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind, she lifted her fork to start the cake. It went clattering to the ground. A spell had just whizzed through the open window, narrowly missing Draco and tipping the edge of her fork. Pansy shrieked as more spells came hurtling through the air. Leaping up, almost with instinct, she whipped out her wand and shouted, "_Protego!_" saving Draco from a stunning curse, as he was still fumbling to get his wand out. Goyle's glass shattered as he sat there stupidly, still not being able to take in the whole scene. More spells were being cast. By now, everyone was waking from their shock, and pulling out their wands. In the confusion, she heard someone shriek, "IT'S THE ORDER!"

Cho was, for some reason, running from the room, and Cormac McLaggen was shouting orders that no one was listening to. Now the members of the party were firing green and purple spells back though the window. Pansy screamed again as the whole wall exploded. The force threw Hermione back, and she flew through the air until, with a crack, she suddenly stopped. Pain seared through her head, and the figures bursting through the hole in the wall were dim. . .fading away. . .A thick fog entered the house, and she went blind and deft. She couldn't find her way though the fog, she seemed to be floating through space and time, back to her sweet childhood, back to the foster parents who had picked her up and taken care of her, who she loved and was loved by.

Reply, plz!!!


End file.
